


stew

by michpat6



Series: aftermath [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Post-Breath of the Wild, breath of the wild - Freeform, maybe angst? definitely not fluff, they eat dinner and link has some thoughts, you would be too if you fought satan for a hundred years, zelda's tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michpat6/pseuds/michpat6
Summary: He wonders what she thinks when she looks at him. He isn’t who he was Before, that much is obvious even to his blank slate of a mind, and he imagines it’s like seeing a stranger with the face of a friend and wondering why they aren’t your friend, why they’re different.Why they’re not her Hero.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033743
Comments: 14
Kudos: 169





	stew

The princess sleeps a lot.

 _Zelda,_ he reminds himself. _She wants to be called Zelda._

He’s in the middle of making an Endura Shroom Stew and opened his mouth to ask if she likes carrots, because he can’t remember if she does, and found her asleep again, slumped back against the tree like she has been for the past thirty minutes they’ve spent camped on the edge of Hyrule Field, crawling their way to Kakariko to see Impa.

The moon is full, and for the first time in his second life it isn’t dripping red. The monsters in the surrounding area all vanished after she struck the final blow, and have yet to reappear.

Link sighs. She’ll just have to eat around the carrots.

It’s been two days since the death of the Calamity, since the princess-Zelda, her name is _Zelda_ -asked if he remembered her, since she smiled at him. Really smiled, not just a polite half-grimace whenever she said, _Thank you._

_May I ask...do you really remember me?_

He told her, _No, not really. I’m sorry,_ and watching her smile fade was like watching the clouds smother the sun.

He likes the sun.

 _Oh,_ she had said, bowing her head and tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. _Well, that’s all right. I wasn’t expecting you to._

Forty eight hours later, and Link finally realizes she was lying.

She’s small, smaller than she was in the snippets of memory the slate showed him. He can see her ribs through her prayer dress from where he’s kneeling over a cooking pot a few feet away, and her skin looks like paper. Her eyes are sunken in her face, the shadows beneath them like bruises even though she’s spent the majority of these first two days unconscious.

It’s not like he can blame her, though. Only one of them spent the past century fighting eternal darkness to save the world, and it wasn’t him.

_No, not really. I’m sorry._

He wishes he were a liar.

The stew has been simmering for however long he’s sat, and he decides it’s finished, splitting it between the only two bowls he has with a century-old ladle he stole from the castle. The back of his right hand-his sword hand, he had first identified it as when he woke up in the Shrine-tingles. Behind him, laying next to his shield on top of his bag of “stuff”, the Master Sword hums in its scabbard.

Link frowns, doesn’t know why it’s calling to get his attention, until-

“Link?” His eyes snap to hers. They’re a dull green, the color of grass in the shade, but he knows-he remembers-that they’re usually much brighter, especially when she’s holding a frog to his face and excitedly telling him to, _Go on, try it!_

He likes her voice better when it’s in his ears and not echoing in his head, even like this. It’s weak, hoarse, and trembling, like she’s afraid to speak to him, and maybe she is. From what he can gather, they were friends Before. Maybe even more than that. After all, according to Kass, it was her love for him that unlocked her power.

He wonders what she thinks when she looks at him. He isn’t who he was Before, that much is obvious even to his blank slate of a mind, and he imagines it’s like seeing a stranger with the face of a friend and wondering why they aren’t your friend, why they’re _different_.

Why they’re not her Hero.

“Hey,” Link tries to smile, keeps his voice soft. He offers her one of the bowls. “Endura Shroom Stew? I hope you like carrots.”

“Yes,” her polite grimace flickers onto her face as she takes the bowl. He notices how her hands shake beneath the weight of it. “Carrots are fine.”

She can barely walk on her own, her muscles atrophied from the century she spent frozen, battling Ganon in a war of magical wills. Even standing up or sitting down seems to leave her sore and out of breath. But Zelda is stubborn and proud, Link has noticed. She doesn’t like to admit her weaknesses or failures, at least not to him. Not now. Not even when what ails her is just the weight of her dinner.

He’d hold it for her if she asked, but she won’t ask.

“I think…” he falters, staring ahead at the Dueling Peaks. “There’s a stable just past the Peaks. I could use the slate, teleport to it, and bring back my second horse for you to ride. We’ll get to Kakariko by tomorrow night.”

His first horse, Spots, was killed in the fight against Dark Beast Ganon. When he took his final shot, leaping off of her saddle with the help of Revali’s Gale, Ganon released one last wave of dark energy. It tore straight through Hyrule Field, splitting the ground beneath him, and turned Spots to ash. The only reason he wasn’t caught in the crossfire was Rhoam’s paraglider; One last save from the dead man who helped him gather his bearings on the Great Plateau, who trained him to use the slate and save his daughter.

His daughter, Zelda, who nods and says, “All right.”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” he tells her. “I don’t want to leave you alone out here.”

The monsters may have vanished from Hyrule Field, but there’s nothing saying they’ve vanished from all of Hyrule. They tend to wander in packs, especially the silver and black bokoblins, and who’s to say they won’t come here, looking to avenge their master and instead find the princess who killed him?

“Thank you,” she murmurs, looking down at her bowl. “I don’t like being alone anymore.”

Link holds his breath. “Neither do I.”

There’s a weak breeze that makes Zelda’s teeth chatter. She clings to her bowl of stew, bringing it close to her chest, curling around it as if it’s the only source of heat she has.

“Here,” Link gets up and walks over, sitting next to her under the tree. He’s always run hot, and the way she gravitates towards his side makes him smile as he starts drinking his stew. “I’d give you some Rito gear, but then you’d be sweating instead.”

“Thank you,” she repeats, and sips some of hers, humming in what sounds like surprise. “This is quite good.”

He’s just surprised she ate. This is her first time in a hundred years. “Was I not a good cook?”

She breathes a laugh. “Goddesses, no. Neither was I. Impa made and packed our meals like we were her children.”

He hums, trying to imagine the ancient woman who sits on a tower of pillows handing him a brown paper bag with his name written on it.

“Endura Shroom,” she says, covering her mouth as she talks with it full. She swallows, then continues, “Do we need energy for something?”

“So I can keep watch,” he explains. “Look out for any straggling monsters or Yiga Clan that might have seen that you’re free.”

He doesn’t add that he wants to be up in case she wakes screaming like she had last night, so he can get to her and calm her down quickly, or so he knows she’s really safe, that he succeeded in his task, and that the Calamity is finally gone.

“Oh,” she nods. “Do you really think we’ll be attacked?”

“I don’t know. I’d rather be paranoid than dead.”

It’s blunt, he knows it is, but she takes it in stride, nodding again and taking another sip of stew.

They finish their meals in silence. Link takes Zelda’s bowl when she’s done, notices she’s only ate half of an already small portion.

“I might throw up if I eat any more,” she’s quick to explain, as if she thinks he’s offended she didn’t lick the bowl clean like he’s done with his. “A century of starvation, no water or rest...It’ll take me a while to get used to eating and drinking, walking, needing to sleep, being...real again.”

He nods, sets her bowl aside to finish later, when he needs a boost. Who is he to question her? “Okay.”

Zelda’s eyelids are already fluttering, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. Link watches her fight it, wants to wrap his arm around her and hold her close or guide her head to his lap so she’ll at least sleep in a comfortable position, but that’s a privilege he’s sure he only had Before. To do anything but what he’s doing now would be torturing her.

Zelda sleeps, her breaths deep and even, and Link stares up at the stars, praying her slumber is peaceful, and waiting for the sun to rise.

He can’t wait for her to meet Spots Junior.


End file.
